Wings of Stone Cannot Be Lifted
by BreakMyPride
Summary: When angels begin turning to stone, two hunters, a timelord, an angel, a detective, and a blogger are forced to fight together to figure out what is happening to the angels. But when things begin to fall apart, loyalties are questioned and only temptation is to blame. Well, that and the evil man who started the whole mess. (Superwholock)
1. The Doctor

**First, I feel the need to apologize for the story description: Sorry!**

**Second, please enjoy!**

* * *

In the midst of hamburger wrappers and fries, Sam plopped a heavy folder onto the table in front of his brother.

"Dude," Dean said with a mouthful of food, "I'm eating here!"

Sam rolled his eyes, pulling out a chair and flopping down into it, "We've got a case."

Dean huffed, setting his burger down impatiently and wiping his hands before picking up the folder and flipping through. "_Angels?_ I thought we were done with this apocalypse crap."

Leaning back in his chair lazily, Sam replied, "Yeah, so did I." Suddenly, he sat forward, looking at Dean seriously, "This morning when I went on a coffee run, this British guy just came up to me and asked if I was Sam Winchester. Of course I was suspicious, so I said no. But then he got this…this maniac grin and was all, 'Yes! You are, and here- this is very important!' And he handed me that folder. He wouldn't say his name, it was weird."

"Well, he sounds like a wacko. Should we take the case?"

The younger brother shrugged, "Why not?"

"Awesome," Dean said tossing the folder back onto the table before taking another chomp of his burger.

"I think we should probably start with asking Cas," the taller boy stated, looking at Dean pointedly, who didn't realize the meaning of Sam's gaze until a few seconds later. Huffing, Dean stood and tossed the remains of his hamburger in the trash, cursing to himself as he crossed to the middle of the room.

"I swear to god, why do I always..?" He shook his head and said louder, "Castiel. Get your ass down here." Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, who sighed again, rolling his eyes, "_Please._"

After hearing a large crash, Dean turned to see a familiar trench coat-clad angel sitting in his chair while his brother was climbing off the floor to set his chair right side up.

Cas stared at Sam, "Sorry for the surprise," then he turned to Dean, "The 'please' is new," Cas nodded a silent thank you, "What is up?"

The taller brother sat back in his chair, tapping the folder while the elder brother came to stand by the table, seeing as they only had two chairs.

"We've got angels again," Dean stated, leaning on table with his elbows.

"Angels?" Cas replied nervously, probably worried for his family.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, except they're made of stone. We were hoping that maybe you knew something about this already."

The angel flipped through the file, looking confused, "What are they doing?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Who?"

Cas paused for a moment, then looked up, "The angels…What are they doing that's called attention from hunters?"

Sam looked at Dean for a long second, confused by the manner of Cas' question, then back to the angel, "Well, uhm, nothing we've seen so far but the file says that they actually send people back in time- before they were even born- and live off of their potential life energy from the time the person would have lived in the present."

Cas nodded, handing the folder back to Sam, "Okay. But if you haven't seen them before…where did this file come from?"

Sam retold his story. "The guy would only refer to himself as 'the Doctor'". He shook his head. Cas stared forward for a second, then stood suddenly. "I'll have to go talk to the others in the garrison."

And with that, he was gone-the space where he stood suddenly empty.

Sam turned to his brother, "So where should we start?"

Dean raised his eyebrows with a grin, "I'd say we should start with finding Doctor Nutjob."

* * *

**Hummmmm...Did Cas perhaps seem a bit antsy to you...?**

**;D**


	2. Sherlock

Cas appeared in a half lit room and walked up to the front of the room where a large richly colored desk stood. "You said they were harmless," he said to a shady looking character sitting in a comically oversized chair, hunched over a mass of papers.

"They are. No one is being hurt," the man answered without looking up.

The angel stepped closer growling angrily, "Moriarty…"

Jim Moriarty released a dramatic sigh, setting his pen down and standing up with an annoying amount of leisure. "Cas," he said, walking around the desk and draping an arm around the angel, "You have to understand: everything comes with a price." He slid his arm from Cas' shoulder, "And this is getting off cheap.

The angel gave him a questioning gaze.  
Jim rolled his eyes and began to explain with grand gestures, "The people live! They get their full, silly, human lives, and the angels get the benefit of what could've been. Nothing lost, simply gained."

Cas' gaze fell to the ground and he stayed silent. The other man looked at him with a sort of pitying amusement.

"Oh, but you don't really care about the humans, do you? No, you're worried about the angels. Their souls. Their _purity,"_ he said, fighting the temptation to laugh.

"Don't worry," Moriarty coaxed, his voice soft, "The angels can't be blamed even if there were something bad happening. Besides, they're happy. They can walk amongst humans even while being so far from them. They can see the beauty now," Moriarty walked across the room and lifted his hand tinkling the bars of a wind chime hanging beside the window, "They can see the energy. Pure raw, beautiful _life_." He looked back at the angel over his shoulder, "All the way back from the heavenly beginning, before humans tamed nature." He dropped his arm, moving back to Cas. "You don't need to be worried. They're _happy."_

Cas simply stared at him, "I still don't like it."

Jim smirked, "It's foolish to say you don't like something when you haven't ever tried it."

There was a moment of silence before the angel spoke again.

"You know my opinion of your… _drugs._"

Moriarty continued smiling, "Maybe you feel that way now but –believe me- you'll be back. We both know you've been through too much. Felt too much. I've got the cure to your disease, and there's only one other permanent solution. You would get too fed up with this world and end up in the afterlife." He faked a pout, "And neither of us would want that. And think of the others. Your family, your friends."

Cas looked away, mouth clenched into a tight line.

Moriarty shook his head, and strode past Castiel towards the door stopping just behind the angel, "When you change your mind, you know where to find me." And then he left, pulling the grand double doors closed behind him.

Castiel turned and stared at the door, bewildered by the the crime lord's arrogance.

Somewhere to the right of his vision, Cas attention was captured by the shine of red satin.

Curious, he walked towards what seemed like a large web of pictures and articles connected by a series of red satin strings.

At the very top of the web, seemingly the source of the strings, was the name 'Sherlock'.

And with the blink of an eye, the angel was gone.

* * *

**So this chapter is a little bit shorter, sorry! ^^;**

**I enjoy writing Moriarty :3 I love the villainies :D**


	3. The Winchesters

Nope.

No.

Nu-uh.

A strange looking man trotted through the streets of London, shaking his head. He was on a mission to find a _very _special house, occupied by _very _special people.

But wasn't he always?

He clicked a tune with his tongue, counting.

229…. 225….

"Ah-ha! Finally!" he sang, hopping up the steps toward the door. He pressed the doorbell, eyes fixed on the plate claiming the building as '221B'.

A stout, sort of hobbitty looking man answered the door. "Um, hello," he welcomed, taken aback by the silly grin on the stranger's face.

Thrusting a very important looking file towards the resident, the bow-tied man smiled widely, "Hello, Mr. Watson! I'm the Doctor," John opened his mouth to speak, but the other man cut him off," No time for that, however! Take this and good luck!" The mysterious visitor spun to leave, nearly colliding with a pair of tall men. "Oh. Hello there!"

From behind John, a voice called. "Is it another client?" Sherlock surfaced from the flat, casting a questioning glance across the men in his doorway. "Who are you lot?"

The two new men- Americans, it would seem- reached into the pockets of their rather official looking suits, pulling out wallets that flopped open to show the residents their identification cards. The taller of the two spoke, "Hi, we're Agents Sully and Rose of the FBI. We're on official business from America."

The Doctor, who looked very antsy trapped between the two pairs of men, grinned nervously, "Well, _agents, _I'm sure you're here for me, so let's leave these lovely men alone and we could go to- you know, I saw a nice little café a little while ago on my way here; let's go there!" He turned back to the flat mates and gave a little goodbye bow. "Nice meeting you and all but-"

Sherlock stepped past John, arms crossed, "Sir, I really don't think you'd like to go with them. I've seen FBI agents and I can tell you- these men aren't with the government at all."

The bow-tied man shook his head urgently, "No, no, it's fine- I know them."

Sherlock sighed, "Honestly, there's no reason for lying."

John looked between his friend and the three strangers, confused, "Sherlock-"

The detective narrowed his eyes at the group and John murmured to himself, exasperated. "And here he goes…"

"They aren't FBI agents, but they _are _partners," he looked over them again, "Oh, no, my bad. Brothers." They gave him an odd look, which he –of course- ignored, "On the road. Quite often, actually… But why are you all the way in Britain?"

The Winchester boys shared a glance before the older of the two gave up his façade of formality and shrugged, jabbing a thumb in the Doctor's direction. "We were actually trying to find him."

John tapped his fingers against his leg, "Uhm, maybe you should all come inside and we could sort this out..?"

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, please do." He turned to call over his shoulder, "Mrs. Hudson, would you plea-" He froze, staring down the hall. John looked at him curiously, "Sherlock?"

The other man pointed into the dark flat, "There's someone here," he whispered.

The brothers automatically pushed past the three. John protested weakly while Sherlock remained staring at the newest visitor.

The Doctor, however, scampered after them. "Really, it's probably just Mrs. Hudson.."

Sam cast the Doctor a small smile, but neither of the boys stopped their advance.

The Doctor threw his hands up in exasperation. "No one ever listens to me. Ever!" He withdrew back to the flatmates. The shorter of the three, John, clapped a hand on the spaceman's shoulder, "Trust me, I know what you mean."

From down the hall, they heard a curse and the two doctors hurried down the corridor while Sherlock followed with a certain lack of curiosity, knowing that there was no urgency or panic in the voice.

The three emerged from the hall to see the brothers joined by another man.

"Shit , Cas," Dean chuckled loosely, "What the hell are you doing here, man?"

The angel looked stiffly around the room, pausing momentarily on Sherlock, before looking back at Dean, "I spoke to the other angels and I thought I'd find you and let you know."

There was a moment of silence in which everyone was waiting for what Cas had to say.

The older hunter was the first to break the silence, "Well…?

"They have no news."

Dean face palmed, "Thanks, Cas. That's great."

"Uhm, Doctor?" Mr. Watson piped up, scanning his eyes over the file in his hands, "What _is _this folder about? Does it have anything to do with them?" He gestured to the 3 strangers in his living room.

The Time Lord sighed deeply, "Yes, well….maybe you should put some tea on…"


	4. The Angels

"_Angels?"_ John asked incredulously, settling down with a mug of tea. "As in bible- wings- halo- angels?

The Doctor shook his head, "No, not at all. Well, I mean, yes, they have wings, but they can't fly. They're made of stone; flying wouldn't make sense at all."

Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees, declining tea from Ms. Hudson, who was scampering excitedly between her guests, "So they're fast, but they can't move if you're looking at them? Awesome. How do we kill 'em?"

Castiel, standing near the window, shifted his stare from his friend to the time lord, anxiousness well concealed.

The Doctor shook his head and looked at the hunter seriously, "There's no known way of hurting them. And if there was… killing is never a good option." As much as the Doctor respected the Winchester brothers, it was evident that he did _not_ approve of their methods.

John chewed the inside of his cheek, "Right…. And what do you want us to do about them?"

The Doctor sighed, "Well… I don't even know how this will all work now. You all were never supposed to meet!" He got up and crossed the room, straightening his bowtie. "However, I suppose you could try and work together to get the job done- that might work."

Sam cut in, slightly impatient, "That's great and all, but what do you want us to do?"

Sherlock, who had been silently pondering the impossibilities of the situation, spoke, "He wants us to find a way to neutralize them. Or rather, he wants _me_ to do that. I imagine he wants the two of you," he gestured to the brothers, "to go and make sure they don't send anyone else back. It would help a bit if you could find out any weaknesses and such. And a sample would be very beneficial." He stood, turning his gaze toward John, "Come along, John, we've got research to do." He turned and strutted off down the hall to the kitchen. John followed, but stopped near the Doctor, "He's gonna have a hell of a time with this case. Angels. Aliens. This defies all logic."

The other man nodded, "That's why I'm glad you're here to help him along."

John grinned and patted the Time Lord's shoulder before plodding off down the hall.

"Alright," Dean said, standing, "Sammy, let's go…collect a sample, or whatever. Cas-" he looked over to find the space where the angel was occupying empty. "Or not.."

The Doctor licked his lips nervously, approaching the hunters and speaking with a low voice, "Listen, I need you to keep an eye on Castiel. Please."

The older Winchester raised his eyebrows, "What? Why?"

"Just, watch over him. Be careful."

Sam hurriedly cut Dean off, knowing that his brother would begin ranting in the angel's defense, "We will. Don't worry."

The gallifreyan nodded a thank you, looking quite apologetic, before scampering out of the room.

Dean flopped back down on the couch, shaking his head as he flipped through the file, muttering to himself.

"Look, Dean," Sam pleaded, "This guy's a Time Lord. I'm sure he knows what he's talking about. If he warns us about Cas, we should listen."

Dean didn't look up.

"Besides, this isn't the first tim-"

Dean growled, "Okay, so he makes mistakes sometimes. But you don't really believe he's got something to do with these angels, do you? They're a little random."

The other boy just stayed silent.

* * *

**Ooooh, there seems to be a little tension there... *winces at the awkward***


	5. Voice of Sand

Castiel crouched down, watching the Winchesters as they approached the building he was perched upon.

"Check it out!" He heard Dean say giddily as he ran up to a lion statue that sat in front of the police station. The hunter bared his teeth in a crude replication of the creature. Sam sighed.

"Dean…"

His brother huffed and returned to his companion, "Alright, fine. Business." The two entered the building, door closing just a second before Cas appeared on the steps they were just occupying. He watched after them for a second then, feeling a presence, turned.

There stood an angel, his graceful features laden in stone.

"Dumah..?"

After a long moment of silence, Cas blinked and his brother was beside him, posed as if to whisper in his ear. Suddenly, Cas understood and closed his eyes.

With the sound of sand in the wind, the angel spoke.

"We do not hurt. We do not feel. There is nothing but stone. Blissful stillness and a final rapture. One with the world, we need nothing." Cas furrowed his brow.

"How? How do you live without purpose?"

"We don't."

The intensity of their conversation was broken as the door of the police station clicked. Once again, the angel was on the roof, head swimming.

From below, he heard the Winchesters exclaim. Cas peered over the edge to see Sam and Dean circling the statue of his brother with caution and interest.

It seemed Dumah had been grounded, too sluggish to transport himself away. Castiel grimaced and lowered his head as he saw Dean rear up his gun and slam in down onto one of Dumah's stone fingers.

"Forgive them, brother," he whispered, watching as the hunters backed away, keeping their eyes on the stone angel until they reached their car.

From the back of his mind, Cas heard Duman's voice in that same sandy tone, "Worry not….we feel no pain…" With a shudder, Cas disappeared, mentally vowing that his brother's words would not heed him from curing the angels of themselves.

* * *

**Goodness D: I am so sorry for the wait and how short this is, but I needed to post this chapter because I felt like we needed to see Cas' view on this and his conflicted opinion. I also needed them to be able to get a sample, and this was just convenient and I'm sorry. I shall try to get the next one up fairly soon.**


	6. Mistrust and Distrust

The Doctor had always been an understanding man. Or at least _he_ thought he was. Sure, there were factors that he believed determined whether or not something was an okay being, but he was very cautious of taking to prejudice too soon.

Unless, of course, he was forced to take sides.

That was the thought running through the time lord's head as he ran. He ran and ran because he didn't believe the hunters who had invited him to accompany them on their hunt. He ignored their warnings. They told him very carefully that the ruugaruu couldn't be helped. He felt his right hand swat him in the ear.

"I know, I know! Shut up about it, would you?! We have other concerns right now!" He stopped running and spun around, surveying every which way. Where had those Winchesters gone? He breathed deeply to catch his lungs back up. At least the creature was gone. Poor kid. Just a teenager...Well, not really, anymore. Now the time lord mightn't feel so bad about setting it on fire after watching it eat it's neighbor's cat. He shuddered involuntarily and began to move through the thick woods to find the road and see if he could find Sam and Dean again.

Emerging from the brush, he straightened his bow tie then froze, eyes meeting with those of the angel in front of him. With a short smile that didn't reach his eyes, he spoke, walking forward.

"Hello, Castiel. What brings you to this fine forest?"

The trench coat clad angel nodded his head in a small greeting. "I need your advice..."

The Doctor felt a chill run up his spine and into his ears. This was something he was not allowed to help Cas on. Doctor's orders.

Cas watched the Doctor with trained eyes as the time lord strode briskly past him, speaking quickly, "Just tell her you like her. Or tell him. Read daily. Always wear your seatbelt. Take vitamins and drink lots of tea. Don't drink and drive."

The Doctor wrung his hands in front of him, hoping that one of the answers he had provided was the one Cas was looking for, even though he knew they weren't. He hoped even more desperately that his babble had assured Cas that this was something that he could not help him with, as much as he wished he could.

But Cas didn't let up, halting the Doctor to a stop as he appeared in front of him, "Doctor."

The man shook his head urgently, avoiding the angel's gaze.

"_Please_..." Cas pleaded, putting his hand on the Doctor's shoulder. The time lord promptly froze, fearfully looking Cas in the eye.

"Castiel, I can't help you. I've got to stay out of this- _you_ have to decide how this story ends." And this- the Doctor knew- was absolutely true. They were rewriting history right now. These two groups of people never should have gotten mixed, but they did and now the TARDIS refused to move through space, let alone time. Poor girl. She _couldn't_ move because the future was split into two and she didn't want to get trapped in the wrong one.

The Doctor gently brushed off Cas' hand and began walking away again, unsure if the silence meant Castiel had vanished or not, but didn't dare turning back to see.

Cas had, in fact, vanished, reappearing in the flat where he had met the Doctor and the two flatmates. He had contemplated going to the Winchesters, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell them what was on his mind. Not without making them even more distrustful of him. He'd have to figure this out on his own- or with the help of someone just as distrustful as him.

The angel walked through the hall that led to the laboratory where he found Sherlock peering through a microscope.

"Not John." Sherlock sat up straight, turning slightly in his chair to get a glimpse at his visitor. "Ah, Castiel. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The angel spoke stiffly, "What have you found out with the stone angels?"

"Cutting the small talk, I see," he raised his eyebrows, uncomplaining, " Well, they seem to be made from cement. Plain, simple cement except for one thing. There's an element that, if I'm correct, doesn't come from earth." The detective stared at Cas for a long moment before going on. "Perhaps you would be able to identify it. Take a look, please." Sherlock stood, gesturing to the microscope.

Cas took a seat, looking through the instrument. In the mix of many tiny pieces of sand colored particles there were a few brilliant blue bits that had no defined shape of their own. He sat back, looking at Sherlock.

"I don't know. I don't tend to deal with anything of subatomic levels."

Sherlock watched him. He could tell this was quite obliviously a lie. But somehow it seemed different. This was, after all, a creature in another's skin. The signs Sherlock followed when deducing were still there, but they seemed muffled, as if Castiel were wearing a rubber mask over his face.

He sighed. "Very well. If I may, I'd like a blood sample from you. Angels are beyond me and I am fascinated that such a being could exist."

Cas tried very hard not to narrow his eyes in suspicion. Of course Sherlock would know. He would draw a connection. "I'm sure you know I can't give any to you. There are a number of spells that could use my blood if it were to get into the wrong hands. I apologize."

Sherlock gave a short nod. "Understood. Now, if you'll leave me to my work. And also, could you send the Doctor my way as well? He may have information about these samples. Thank you." He sat back in front of the microscope and scribbled something down, diving back into his research without waiting for an answer.

Cas turned to leave, then paused for a moment, looking back to the consulting detective, "What do you know of Moriarty?"

The name acted as a trigger and Sherlock sat up and spoke slowly, without turning, his eyes burning a hole into the wall, "He is a brilliant man who is not to be trusted."

"Much like yourself."

That much made Sherlock twist in his seat to look at the angel, a fierce look in his eye. "_And you_. Now get out."

But Cas was already gone.


	7. Caring Is Not An Advantage

John, walking back into the kitchen, was unsurprised to see that Sherlock hadn't touched the tea he had made him 3 hours ago before he left. "Have you even moved since I left?"

The detective looked up as John came to clear away the tea, "Ah, no, not really." Not feeling to up to conversation, he scribbled something down and went back to his microscope. John took note of this, but didn't think much of it because, well, Sherlock is as Sherlock does. And Sherlock doesn't do anything without some purpose in it.

John set the tea cup and platter into the sink with a gentle clink, "So what have you found from the sample?"

Sherlock, without looking up, replied, "Just concrete except for some unearthly substance floating around in it." He sat up with a frown. "I would like for the Doctor to take a look at it. I'm sure he'll find it familiar."

The army doctor instinctively pulled out his phone, "I can ring him if you'd like..?"

Sherlock gave him an odd look, which amused John greatly, "He has a phone..?" Quickly, he replaced his look of incredulity with one of contempt, "Of course he does, I'm sure he's found some impossible way of getting service from infinity and beyond."

John let out a short bark of laughter at the reference until he caught himself, "Where on earth..?"

The detective shook his head with a bemused smile, "When the Winchesters stopped by earlier, the short one said it about some thing or another. I'll delete it soon enough."

John sighed to himself, torn between rolling his eyes and smiling as he stepped out of the room to place the call.

Within the next 20 minutes, the time lord burst into the flat, "Hello!"

"In here!" John called from the kitchen-turned-lab.

"Ah, yes, Doctor," Sherlock greeted, standing as the Doctor entered the room, "Would you mind looking at this for me? I don't believe this specific type of particle is from Earth." He gestured to his chair and microscope.

The Doctor sat down and squinted into the microscope, "Yeah, this is definitely unearthly." He sat back, turning the chair toward Sherlock. "It has characteristics of a cell warped by time travel, which would be expected from the angels. But even if it weren't warped- it's nothing I've seen before."

The consulting detective met his eyes steadily, "I have reason to believe that, with a sample of Castiel's blood, we would find a rather close match."

The Doctor sighed, rubbing his eyes, and turned to John. "Could you leave for a bit Maybe go down to Speedy's and get everyone some food, please?" John nodded reluctantly and left. Without turning back to Sherlock, the time traveler spoke carefully.

"Holmes, I'm not even going to try to convince you from what you and I both know is the truth." HE turned and walked up to the detective, putting his hands on Sherlock's shoulders, "But you _cannot _ tell the Winchesters. What is to happen _must _happen."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "He's working with Moriarty. Doctor, you brought us together without meaning to and seemed very upset about it. Now the angel has gone and screwed something up. You knew I'd find out and assumed the Winchesters would be too stupid to do so- or else would try to stop Castiel from enacting said mistake. I can only assume, Doctor, that something god awful is going to happen to Castiel, and you want me to stay silent about _that_? I've been told quite clearly that I'm heartless, but somehow the man with two hearts, the man who supposedly helps those in need, wants to watch an angel _die._" Sherlock seemed to puff up a little, becoming angrier with each word.

The Doctor's hands receded and his eyes fell to the ground. "You have to stay away from it," he said quietly, "For your own safety. And John's."

Sherlock's eyes widened a fraction and the Doctor staggered backward for a second.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. You have to stay silent. You and John were never supposed to get so closely involved". Never quite meeting Sherlock's eyes, the timelord left, passing John on his way out.

"I got the subs…" John said, looking between a stunned Sherlock and the now- empty doorway. John set the bag on the counter and crossed his arms. "Sherlock, what happened?"

Snapping out of his momentary daze, the detective looked down and turned away, "Nothing".

"Christ," John scoffed angrily, "Sherlock, I know it must be incredible finding someone as amazing and other worldly as yourself, but I'm not going to leave and get sandwiches every time you have to talk about something that my idiot human mind apparently can't comprehend-!" He huffed, leaving the kitchen until Sherlock stopped him."

"John, I don't doubt you. It's just that it really wasn't anything that important".

Turning back to his flat mate, John snapped, "Really? What was so unimportant that I had to leave the room for? Because that kind of screams suspicious to me."

Sherlock took a breath, "Castiel is working with Moriarty and he's in imminent danger- something to do with the fact that he shares DNA types with the angel we collected the sample from. I can only assume that Moriarty is the cause of the angels and is planning on turning Cas into one."

John gave him a look as if he had just started singing Swedish hip hop.

"_What?!_" He ran to get his coat, "We've got to tell Sam and Dean!"

"No!" Sherlock bellowed, grabbing John's arm. John looked at him in disbelief and Sherlock withdrew his hand, dually surprised at his own action. Quietly, he said, "You can't tell them. This _has_ to happen."

John's look of disbelief slowly melted into a glare, "Sherlock, I had hoped you'd have grown something of a heart after all this time. There's got to be something we can do. And if you won't- I will. They deserve to know that their best friend is in danger. They care about him." He grabbed his jacket, shoving it on and muttering, "Not that you'd understand." Then he left.

Sherlock stared at the door for a long moment before walking to the couch and sitting, elbows on knees and head in his hands.


	8. A Spoonful of Sugar

Sherlock sat still for what seemed like an eternity before he forced himself to dig out his phone. Almost robotically, he called Sam Winchester, his face hard as stone.

* * *

"Dean!" Sam hurried down the hall, shoving his phone in his pocket, "John's coming. Whatever he says, don't listen to him, he's-" Sam rounded the corner to see the door thrown open, a short note scrawled on a slip of paper with an address circled.

_John says Cas is in danger. Meet us here ASAP._

Same swore loudly and grabbed the paper, running out the door and pulling his phone out once again.

* * *

John tapped his fingers anxiously on his knee as they pulled into the lot of an abandoned warehouse.

"Here?" he asked skeptically, looking out the windshield.

Dean nodded, "This is the address you gave me. Besides," he added, "huge and abandoned seem pretty appropriate for illicit activities, if you ask me."

John agreed, keeping in mind that he had gotten the address from Mycroft, which meant it had to be right.

The pair climbed out of the Impala. Dean rounded to the trunk and armed himself with a shotgun and pistol, handing John a flashlight.

The ex-army doctor rolled his eyes, "I know how to use a gun." He took a pistol for himself as Dean apologized half-heartedly.

They ventured into the warehouse, doing their best to be sneaky and quiet, until Dean's phone started buzzing. John glared at him as the hunter cursed silently, scrambling to answer his phone, "Yeah, Sammy?"

John heard a noise and edged to the corner of the hall, peeking around it. He saw a shadow shift and the blogger retreated. He heard Dean murmur a bye and snap his phone shut. John turned back to Dean to warn him about the noise, but was cut off as he saw the other man lunge at him.

* * *

Sherlock walked slowly around the flat as he gathered his coat and donned his scarf. He wanted very badly to charge after John, but he knew it would be stupid.

So he took his time.

He had instructed Sam to stop the 'demon' that had invaded John. But he made very clear that John was not to die. Should he feel bad? Yes. Did he? To some extent. Sherlock, given the choice between saving the angel and saving his flat mate, chose the most logical one for his benefit. He refused to let John get killed over something he never should have been involved in in the first place.

Finally, Sherlock left to make his way to the motel the Winchesters were staying in. He was halfway there when he got a call from Sam. Sherlock answered immediately, "Did you find him?"

He heard Sam sigh from the other end, "He got to Dean before I could and they left." Sam repeated the address to the detective, who then demanded that his cabbie take him there-immediately.

"I called Dean and told him, though, so it should be alright. The trap wouldn't work if John couldn't lead him all the way into it."

Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Idiot, they're still near it. We've got to go help."

The Winchester boy made a noise of annoyance, "Well, I'm on my way. I'll meet you in front of the place." He slammed his phone shut and continued on his way.

* * *

Jim spoke to his client smoothly, reassuring her of the fact that everything would go just fine in their deal. She thanked him kindly and he hung up, turning in his chair to see one of his thugs dragging in some guy who looked vaguely familiar.

He stood, speaking to the young man, "Nice woman. Single mother in a bit of debt."

"Who the fuck are you?!" Dean growled, not exactly glad to be being manhandled by some dickwad.

"You see, she just wants custody of her kids, but the father won't settle for it, not that he's paying child support or anything." Jim smiled, walking to the front of his desk. "Just need's a quiet assassination and she gets all he has. Well, had." The criminal laughed, signaling for his goon to let the hunter go. Jim walked up to him, offering a hand, "Jim Moriarty, master criminal and story teller." He gave the Winchester a cheeky grin.

Dean ignored his hand, simply glaring hard at the nicely dressed man.

Jim stared back at Dean for a moment before laughing, "Right! Right, you're him. You're Dean Winchester, of course. My apologies, I simply wasn't expecting you so soon."

Dean furrowed his brow in confusion, "You what?"

Moriarty raised his eyebrows, "Oh, you didn't know? I'm a friend of Castiel's. Well, maybe not friend, but definitely at least a business associate." He nodded, smiling as he waved to the thug one more. The croonie left the room and returned with Castiel, dressed in what seemed like white hospital scrubs. Dean noticed immediately how sickly Cas was looking, his skin paler and his eyes dazed and lifeless.

Dean rounded back to Moriarty, "What the hell did you do to him?"

Jim waved him off, walking around the room and grabbing two chairs, "I've put him in timeout and given him medicine. You see, he's become sick with a little disease called reality." Jim made a face as he set the two chairs across from each other. He grabbed Dean hard by the shoulder and led him to a chair, gesturing for him to sit down. The thug put Cas in the other.

The angel looked up at Dean, squinting slightly as though he wasn't sure it was actually Dean. He murmured an apology, looking back at his feet.

Dean stood and yelled at Moriarty, "You sicko! What. Did. You. Do?!" Dean's hand twitched and he wished he still had his guns, or at least a knife.

Jim rolled his eyes, walking towards his desk to pick up a little pill bottle. Jim's henchman shoved Dean back down into the seat as the master criminal returned, "You see these pills?" He upturned the canister and took one out, holding it up to the light. "Time warped cells with a carnivorous little appetite. I've been crushing 'em up and injecting them into our little Cassy." He patted Castiel roughly on the cheek, which seemed to wake him up a fraction. The angel grimaced, gritting his teeth.

"Now," Jim crouched down between the two men, holding up the pill bottle as he quirked an eyebrow. "Who wants to take their medicine?"

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUUUHN**


	9. Cocking the Gun

John woke up to see a worrisome Sam leaning over him.

"John, thank goodness!"

The blogger sat up, wincing as he felt the rush of blood go to his head, "What the bloody hell..?"

"Yeah," the Winchester said, attentively, "Sorry about Dean hitting you. We thought you were possessed." He gestered to John's arm, which seemed to have been doused in water and had cloth wrapped around it. "I had to check to make sure you were you. And you passed."

John laughed dryly, "Congratulations to me." He rubbed his head as he attempted to stand, leaning heavily against the wall. "Why the hell would you think I was a demon?!"

Sam scratched his head awkwardly, looking at the floor, "Well, you see, Sherlock-"

John huffed and rolled his eyes, "Of course. Sherlock. He just-" Watson shook his head angrily. "Fine. Whatever. Where's Dean?"

Sam shook his head, "Don't know. We should find him. I told Sherlock I'd meet him in front but I guess he got hung up and I couldn't wait."

"I don't think Castiel can wait either. And now Dean. Great." John ran a hand through his hair, "Well, we should carry on then, I guess."

Sam nodded, gripping his pistol and continuing forward.

* * *

Castiel gave the criminal a weary look, standing with a heavy sway that made Dean reach out a hand before he could stop himself.

"What's your game, Moriarty?" He growled, eyes narrow.

Jim smiled, "My _game_ is that I want one of you to take the pill. It's pretty obvious that you two are so _madly _in love with each other- but are you willing to sacrifice your own existence for the other?" Moriarty waggled his head gleefully, "I'm pretty certain the answer is yes, but it's always the effect on the other that gives the most satisfaction." The criminal dug his fingers into Dean's hair, shaking the other man's head enthusiastically, "Isn't that right, Dean? I'm sure you remember what it was like when your brother went to hell!" Jim chuckled, removing his fingers and setting the pill container on a small stool set between the two.

Dean and Cas met eyes sadly for a long moment before Dean spoke.

"Do you still have the amulet I gave you?"

Instinctively, the angel's hand ghosted over the pocket of his trench coat, "Of course."

Dean nodded and was about to turn to Moriarty when he froze mid-sentence. Across from him, Cas had flicked his wrist, putting Dean on pause. Jim's eyebrows flew up as he turned to Cas.

"Not gonna let your pet take the bullet for you, eh?"

Castiel ignored him and stood, picking up the small vile that held the pills. "I'm sorry, Dean." He down casted his eyes, clutching the pills in his hand. "Again."


	10. Bang

"Go on, then, Cassy." Jim crossed his arms, watching the angel expectantly.

Castiel sent a glare back in Moriarty's direction before looking back at the pill bottle. Solemnly, he shook out a pill. He leaned his head back and swallowed the tiny capsule. For a moment nothing happened, but the angel could feel this lifting feeling in his sternum and his vision began to cross. Then, a wave of cold hit Cas like a punch in the throat.

Jim smiled. The transformation was always a beautiful process. Like the other angels before him, Castiel fell forward onto his knees and then, with one palm to the floor and the other clutching where his vessel's heart was located, arched his back and released a wail of pain. Leaning against his desk in a comedically calm way, highly contrasting the episode before him, Jim watched with an endless fascination. This was _his_ creation. He had obtained a power that no one else could. He'd started a species, stealing the angels from God. Becoming God himself. Creating his own beings. Not good, not evil. New. Interesting.

Castiel clawed at his shirt, but found himself scratching stone. The smooth texture worked its way across his clothing and onto his skin, moving like a sort of living liquid as it swallowed him whole. Then came Jim's favorite part. Like a plant, stone began to sprout from the angel's back as his wings became visible. Substantial. Vulnerable. It was beautiful, seeing the vessel transform into what was really inside. An angel. Flawless and cold with wings that never _really _permitted any freedom.

The pill seemed to work so much better on angels than on demons. Jim felt his nose twitch in disgust, recounting that failure. There's a reason why there faces are locked in hell. _Nobody _wants to see _that_.

Another cry brought Moriarty back to the scene before him, causing the crimelord to roll his eyes. "Oh, stop your whining. You angels are all so wimpy. It'll be over in a short while."

Castiel fell into a fetal position, shuddering until his shaking subsided. The effect of his stillness and the stony exterior made Cas look something like a lawn ornament, much to Jim's amusement.

Somewhere along the Castiel's transformation, the spell had worn off of Dean and the hunter was no longer frozen by the angel, but instead frozen in devastation. He stared at what was once his friend, arms and legs weighed down heavily by the sheer force of seeing his angel friend curled on the ground in pain.

Moriarty grinned over at Dean. "Pretty cool, right?" He walked over to the Winchester, gripping Dean's shoulder. "Let's get a closer look!" Jim roughly brought Dean to his feet and pulled him over to Cas. Jim shoved Dean so that he was on his knees, inches away from the angel that had now started to move.

Sluggishly and with the sound of rocks grinding together, Cas pushed himself up, looking around with new eyes. From his side, he could see flowing colors, colors that didn't even appear in the spectrum that existed on Earth or the one in Heaven. What he saw, he realized, were energies. Auras and chakras and all those things that exist on the spiritual plane.

All Dean saw, however, was his good friend's face, painted and stone with shallow indents where Cas' eyes used to be. There was no expression on his face. No hint that he was even awake in there, if not for the movement.

Moriarty patted Dean's cheek happily. "I'd offer you one, but humans are so annoyingly awful, I'm sure that you wouldn't look any better than the demon I gave a pill to. So off you go then." Jim stood up, nudging the hunter with his foot.

Dean suddenly felt a swell of rage and gritted his teeth, looking up at the crimelord. "I'm going to fucking kill you." He lunged angrily, but the collar of his shirt was caught easily by Jim's stupid henchman and the Winchester was dragged away as he screamed curses at Moriarty.

The goon threw Dean out of the room, leaving him where Dean had gotten grabbed in the first place. The hunter ran at the door, but found it locked. He yelled and kicked at the door. He even shot it, but nothing could get the door to open.

The hunter clenched his fist, sliding down the door until he was sitting. He shook his head, curling his fingers in his hair. Again and again he told himself that Cas wasn't lost. He couldn't be.

He would be made right again.

Somehow.


End file.
